


Eyes On The Prize

by Fluxx, KioneM



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alec can't focus, Head of the Institute Alec Lightwood, M/M, Magnus isn't helping, Malec, but he certainly knows how to motivate his boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:14:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluxx/pseuds/Fluxx, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KioneM/pseuds/KioneM
Summary: Sometimes, the job of being Head of the New York Institute can be really, really boring. Luckily, Magnus knowsjust the thingto help with Alec's lack of motivation!Illustrated byKioneMFollow us ontumblr!





	Eyes On The Prize

“Alexander?”

Alec sat bolt upright at the sound of his name, something grazing through his hair as his eyes rapidly blinked away his drowsiness. “W-What? I…” Dazed, he glanced to his side, where his chuckling boyfriend was adjusting the rings upon his fingers. Apparently, he’d just narrowly missed hitting Magnus’s hand, a soft flush coloring his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Magnus cooed. He lifted Alec’s chin upon delicate fingertips, then pressed a firm kiss against Alec’s lips. If he spent the rest of his life tasting those lips, he’d be satisfied - alas, Magnus soon reminded him the world had other plans in store, the eccentric Warlock breaking the kiss and turning his face to regard the papers strewn across Alec’s desk. “How’s it going?”

Alec glanced over them with a groan. “Honestly, does anyone ever even read these?”

“That poorly, hm?” Magnus sighed, standing up and curling his hand through the air. In a wisp of blue smoke, a wine glass appeared, hanging from two outstretched fingers and held steady with a thumb. The glass was typical enough, elegantly decorated with twists of silver and shimmering cabochon jewels, but distantly Alec wondered where Magnus was getting the wine from. “That’s a shame. I was hoping we could enjoy some time together.”

“What, you don’t like sitting around this office watching me drone over paperwork?” They shared a smirk before Alec looked back down at his work and sighed. “It’s just so _tedious_. I’m starting to regret ever taking up this position.”

At that, Alec found himself slapped with a heavy cloth. It was smooth and cool to the touch, and bloomed with Magnus’s cologne - as Alec snatched the thing off his head, he quickly identified it as Magnus’s vest, and passed his lover a mild scowl.

“Don’t joke about that,” Magnus cautioned, sipping his wine and depositing the glass upon a nearby table. “You’re the best one of the job, and you really _do_ enjoy it.”

He allowed his eyes to slip shut, treating himself to a deep breath of Magnus’s scent before replying, “I’d enjoy _something else_ a lot more.”

Suddenly, the vest yanked out of his grasp, tossed helplessly through the air by a simple flick of Magnus’s fingers. “Some _thing_?”

Alec grinned, then finally picked up his pen and righted his papers. “Some _one_.”

“That’s better.”

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, his brain begging for _any_ excuse to look at something that wasn’t black ink scrawling across off-white parchment, that Alec glanced up and noticed Magnus messing with… a giant, silver silk sheet? “...Magnus,” Alec murmured, a brow raising with intrigue, “what are you doing… ?”

“Oh, nothing,” Magnus replied with innocence so fake it brought a smile to Alec’s lips. “I just figured you’re probably going to be a while, so I may as well get comfortable.”

“Okay,” Alec laughed, shaking his head as he tried to fathom his boyfriend’s antics. But then, he frowned, realizing he recognized that particular fabric. “...Wait, is that our bed’s sheet?”

“It might be,” came Magnus’s purr, his torso slowly twisting at the waist.

When he did, Alec finally saw what Magnus’s hands had been fiddling with, his buttons already undone to just below his broad pecs. His eyes widened as he dropped his pen and stood up from his desk. “M-Magnus!”

“Ah-ah!” the Warlock cautioned with a raised hand and a sly grin. Alec froze at the edge of his desk, coaxed back into his chair with a small nudging of Magnus’s finger. “You stay _right_ there, Mr. Lightwood.”

Alec could feel the color spreading across his face as Magnus’s hand returned to the rest of his buttons. “Magnus, why… ?” The sound of his own whimpering only served to embarrass him more.

“Just providing you with a little motivation,” Magnus chuckled, the edges of his blouse suddenly far less defined as he returned his back to Alec. His hands swung to his sides, confirming they had indeed completed their task, then one fetched another sip of wine while the other combed through his styled hair. They took their sweet time lowering back to their sides, the fabric of his shirt edging down along the slope of his shoulders with every lowered degree.

Subconsciously, Alec shifted in his chair, adjusting his pants and swallowing a breath of precious air. “Motivation?” he murmured, eyes glued to Magnus’s shirt. Silently, he rooted for the garment’s progress, urging it further and further, just a _little_ more of Magnus’s back revealed with every painfully minuscule gain.

But then Magnus lifted his forearms and hugged himself tight, the shirt growing taut right at the base of his shoulder-blades. “Now, now, Alexander,” Magnus coquettishly tsk’d. “How much work do you have left?”

He quickly glanced over the papers below him. Between his nap and his current predicament, he was honestly surprised he hadn’t drooled on them. “Not much,” he hurriedly assured. “I could… If you’re, you know, bored… I could probably finish in the morning?”

“That doesn’t sound very _responsible_ ,” Magnus pouted, letting his arms continue their gradual descent, in turn resuming his shirt’s careful drag down his back.

Alec grunted and shifted in his chair. “D-Damn it,” he muttered, grabbing his pen and quickly gathering his thoughts. Something about mermaids swimming around in Central Park. And the swan boats? Finally he remembered, and rushed out another couple sentences for his report, stealing a glance at Magnus between every few words.

To his delight, Magnus watched him write, keeping the discard of his shirt in time with Alec’s progress. A paragraph or so later, Alec’s breath had begun to pant, and Magnus’s shirt was dangling precariously from the pointed, silver claw decorating Magnus’s hooked finger.

“There,” Alec rasped, his heart skipping a beat as Magnus’s shirt finally fell, drifting harmlessly to the ground. “First case done.” To assert this, he swiftly scrawled his signture across the bottom of the parchment, then hastily slid the report into a file to his side. He looked down at his desk, fingers leafing through what remained: an investigation into a suspected vampire den that turned out to be just some crazy Mundane woman’s apartment, and a Raum demon whose occupation of the sewer system sent displaced rats infesting the city’s streets. He sighed, eyes lifting longingly to Magnus’s bared back. “Two more.”

Magnus chuckled, drawing but a single hand to some hidden place low before his waist, the other claiming another sip of wine. “Best keep at it, then!”

Alec could tell from the subtle shifting of Magnus’s hips just what the Warlock had decided to do away with next, and he bit his lip at the thought of what show was in store for him. He dove into the Raum report like a well-trained dog - the faster he got through this damn busywork, the sooner that sequined band would slip from Magnus’s belt loops, and the freer those tight jeans would be to ease down off that firm ass. Sure enough, soon the jewels of Magnus’s belt glinted in their clasps as they slid across Alec’s vision, passing without resistance under thin strips of black fabric. It reminded him of the way the lights of a speeding train flickered from window to window, and he wanted very much to be carried away on that train to its eventual paradise.

“Alexander? Are you _staring_?”

Alec started, blinking up to longingly find Magnus’s eyes. He’d ceased the pull of his belt, the last inch or so still caught in the last belt loop. “S-Sorry!” Alec blurted, then checked his report.

_We located the Raum demon riding Magnus train to b_

His stomach pitched, hand frantically grabbing for his white-out. “By the Angel,” he groaned, more than a little want still infecting his voice. Luckily, Magnus had stopped him before he’d finished his autopilot sentence, so he didn’t have _too_ much to erase from official Clave paperwork. He just hoped none of the people who actually handled these reports were so nosy as to pick away at the white-out and discover just how bad a state Magnus had gotten him in.

Or maybe he hoped they _did_. The thought that someone out there receiving his reports might know just what was going on before, during, and after their writing… Of what scenes ensued in the office of the Head of the New York Institute… The thought brought a wave of heat to Alec’s cheeks, as much from the notion itself as the dream of just what those scenes might be. He scribbled out his corrections, finished the paragraph, and looked up.

The fall of Magnus’s belt was like final, eventual snap of twine that had been wound too tight, swinging away to flop upon a chair and pulling with it a faint, content rumble from Alec. “Mmm,” he murmured, biting his lip and clutching his pen.

“...Report?” Magnus gently reminded, his thumbs needling their way beneath the edge of his pants at either hip.

“Right, right!” The gathering of his thoughts was not unlike a child trying to scoop water into a pail, most of it falling through his fingers and sloshing about anywhere _but_ where it was supposed to go. Rather than the pail, why not slide down Magnus’s sleek spine, or splash against his serene face, or—

Alec flinched in time with the sudden pause of Magnus’s pants at the apex of his ass. He knew _precisely_ what question was on the tip of Magnus’s tongue, and what would reward his answer. “Done!” he declared, swirling off another signature. This one was a bit sloppier than the last, but Alec didn’t care - he had eyes only for the glide of Magnus’s pants the rest of the way down his sculpted legs, the light refracting off his rings turning them to tiny disco balls as they moved.

Tight as the garment was to his form, Magnus had to bend over to fully remove it, treating Alec to the full roundness of his rump and a reminder of just how _flexible_ the Warlock could be if such a thing served him. With such thoughts buzzing about in his head, he relieved himself of his own pants’ constriction, regaining just enough room to be able to breathe before his boyfriend’s coy show.

As Magnus kicked off his pants for good, he downed the last of his wine, then slowly, carefully, began to turn in place. His shoulders took the lead, initiating an excruciatingly steady coil all the way down his spine. The muscles rippling across his chest and the top of his abdomen nearly completed their crest before the outermost edge of his hips at last receded enough to reveal the swell between his legs, his boxers tented from a girth Alec knew all too well. He gazed hungrily at the hidden mass, knowing Magnus ate up the way he licked his lips and dug his nails into the surface of his desk. Perhaps out of amusement, perhaps out of playful spite, Magnus gave a small, subtle flex, and Alec knew a grin had broken out across his face at the way the nearly imperceptible fidget made Alec squirm in his chair.

“One more?” Magnus purred.

“One more,” Alec moaned.

A jeweled finger drifted into Alec’s view to lay delicately along the slit of Magnus’s boxers. It eased its way upward, its nail catching at shimmering, red silk here-and-there, drawing Alec’s eyes to the black elastic band pressing into the base of his stomach.

“That worked out rather perfectly, didn’t it?”

Alec whimpered, knowing full well what he meant - one last report, for one last garment.

He glanced down at his last report.

Right. Cat lady. _Fuck_.

“Something wrong, my dear?”

The pout brought Alec looking up just in time to see Magnus reaching for his shirt, and his eyes shot wide. “N-No, no! Nothing… Nothing’s wrong!” he frantically assured, aligning his papers and adjusting his position. He lifted hand to show Magnus the pen, poised and ready to write. “You just… You just, um… keep… you know… and I’ll… I’ll just… !”

The draw of Magnus’s smile across his lips felt like a ribbon slowly pulling apart from a box of fine chocolates. “Alright, then,” he purred, fingertips dancing along the rim of his waistband. They paused at his sides as Alec found the top of his paper, then gave the elastic a quick, loud _snap!_ , spurring Alec into action.

It truly served as the gunshot at the races, sending Alec barreling out of his gate. Bland, monotonous details spilled out from his hand as it zipped back and forth across the page. Eager eyes darted from the drone of sentences to the rustling silk, drinking every glint of light their shifting wrinkles caught and threw his way. Magnus’s thumbs had wormed their way under the band, fingers flared in presentation of his hands’ gradual easing of his final, solitary textile. As relatively immediate as its removal would otherwise be, Magnus’s elected to have a bit of fun with it, allowing the stretched band to snag the tip of his length. “Oh, no! Looks like I’ve run into some trouble…”

“ _Magnus_ ,” Alec all-out whined, squirming in his seat between paragraphs. How did a single woman even _support_ that many damn cats?!

“Ah, there we go!” Magnus rejoiced, his hands pulling the waistband wider before re-attempting the descent. It was his turn to nibble at his lip, looking up to wickedly watch Alec’s every minute reaction to the grand reveal.

To be perfectly honest, it was growing more and more difficult to keep his hand steady - but he’d also long since stopped caring so much. So long as the report was legible, what did it matter? And _he_ could read it just fine! Anyways, who would want to read some lousy report when _Magnus Fucking Bane_ was in the room, his brightly shimmering yellow eyes monitoring your every move, his devilishly dextrous fingers curling over a censor-like span.

Alec’s every breath was audible now, and his pulse hitched another degree when a soft, wide mound of pinkish flesh at last surfaced, a soft glisten highlighting its central slit.

“Mmm,” Magnus murmured through pressed lips. “Not sure how long I can contain myself, dear.”

“Almost…” Alec groaned, diving into the last paragraph, barely able to keep his eyes from the erect and pulsing muscle revealed bit-by-agonizing-bit. He could see every vein, could feel them against his fingertips even as they rolled across the pen in his grasp. When he practically stabbed the last period of his report into the parchment, Magnus’s thumbs released their hold of his boxers’ waistband, letting the garment slump to the ground. No longer held against fabric, his cock flopped heavily from his loins like a diving board, reminding Alec of how it filled his hand or mouth or ass, of how it so easily commanded his voice like a conductor’s baton.

With his third and final signature looking more like a rollercoaster track than a name, Alec stood up abruptly from his desk, but practically fell over from just as abrupt a stop when Magnus held out his hand. “Ah-ah!” he playfully scolded, stepping back and languidly lowering upon the silver bedsheet he’d laid out upon the ground. He kept his hand outstretched as he moved, holding Alec steady behind his desk. “Your desk is a mess,” he chided with a smirk. “You’re not going to just leave your work strewn about like that, _are_ you?”

Alec glared at his paperwork, then hurriedly took to riffling it all together, the task made more difficult by the precarious hang of his undone pants. “Of _course_ not,” he mumbled. On the edge of his sights, he could see Magnus’s hands drifting up and down his torso, or curling through his hair - occasionally, he even went so far as wrapping his fingers around his awaiting cock, giving it a few loving caresses Alec would have much rathered deliver himself.

Or received.

Anything, really, so long as he _finally_ got to enjoy the beautiful masterpiece sprawled before him.

When every paper was at last in its proper place, and even his damn pen was capped and dunked into his desk organizer, he looked up and spread his hands wide, a look of utter desperation spelled across his begging eyes and upturned brow and parched lips. “ _Now_?”

“Hmm...” Magnus’s feline eyes slid up and down Alec’s body, though Alec couldn’t imagine the view was anything like his own. The Warlock took his time considering the Shadowhunter, enjoying how every stolen moment kept Alec hanging in needy suspense, worsening the color rampantly consuming Alec’s neck and face. He could practically see the sweat beginning to bead along Alec’s forehead, and the poor man’s pupils had dilated so severely Magnus doubted any color remained at all.

At last, Magnus rolled back upon the sheet, his hands moving over his head and lightly grasping the smooth, cool fabric in full presentation of his body. “Alright, Alexander.”

Alec practically dove over his desk, only narrowly avoiding undoing all the work he’d just put into straightening it. In stark contrast to Magnus’s tortoise-like strip, Alec did away with his pants in record time, and didn’t even bother with his shirt before collapsing over Magnus’s prone body.

Magnus snickered, meeting Alec’s gaze and cupping his cheeks. “There, now. Was that really so hard?”

Alec grinned, then dipped down to steal a harsh, deep kiss. Rather than break the bout of passion himself, he Magnus do the honors upon a sudden, lusty gasp that fell into a longing moan - one of Alec’s hands had found his neck, the other gripping his sack. Alec took full advantage of Magnus’s disheveled state, leaning down to feed a low, rasping whisper into Magnus’s metal-coiled ear.

“ _Shut up and fuck me._ ”


End file.
